It takes Carlisle a moment to concentrate enough for it, but he finally does conjure another orb for the other side of the bed, the shadows there gathering too thickly for his liking. He doesn't manage to get it over there, though: he fumbles with it just as he reaches across his chest, the ball slipping through his fingers as his body shudders with Glacius' steady rhythm against him. It rolls off his sweater and has enough momentum to go right off the edge of the bed, popping once it hits the ground.

With one hand still occupied at the alien's mandible, Carlisle places his free hand now along the side of Glacius' torso, the thick muscles there giving him plenty of purchase to brace himself as Glacius continues to grind against him. His body responds to those stirrings not just physically, but magically as well, as Glacius can no doubt feel that subtle pull against his will once more. A far cry from the desperate plea it had been earlier, it is now a gentle suggestion, and one Glacius may recognize.

More.

Despite the nature of it -- it's not even a full compulsion, but a slight beckoning barely perceptible at the back of the mind -- Carlisle isn't yet so far gone that he doesn't recognize it. He mumbles an apology just before uttering Glacius' name once more.